She was quiet for so long that I thought she hadn’t heard me. Finally, she whispers, “I don’t know.”
We drive in comfortable silence for a while, the Irish countryside flowing past our windows in a blur of green. I find myself thinking about last night—about kissing her in the rain, about the way she felt in my arms, about the unexpected rightness of it all. It’s insane, of course. We’ve known each other for what, a week? And we’re both in the middle of personal crises. It’s hardly the foundation for...whatever this is.
And yet. There’s something between us that defies the rational timeline of our acquaintance. A connection that feels older, more profound than it should.
“You’re thinking very loudly over there,” Kori observes, breaking into my thoughts.
I laugh at being called out. “Just processing. It’s been a hell of a few days.”
“That’s one way to put it.” She shifts in her seat, turning toward me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“What Kat said last night—about you not speaking Gaelic. Is that true?”
I blink, surprised by the question. “Yeah, mostly. I know some basics from school, and my mother used certain phrases when I was growing up, but I’ve never been fluent.”
She nods, seeming to accept this explanation, though there’s still a curious light in her eyes. “It helped. Hearing it.”
“Good.” I clear my throat, suddenly uncomfortable with the intimacy of the conversation. “So, Dublin. Have you been before?”
She allows the subject change with a small smile. “Once, years ago. College backpacking trip through Europe. I remember Temple Bar and the Book of Kells, not much else.”
“It’s a great city,” I tell her, grateful to be on safer conversational ground. “Busy, though. Different from the Ireland you’ve seen so far.”
“Have you spent much time there?”
I nod. “Some. The family has property there—well, the Murphys do. I guess the MacGallans probably do too.” I frown, the dual identity still jarring. “Anyway, I’ve visited a few times over the years. Usually, when I needed to escape Declan’s disapproving glares.”
“You two have a complicated relationship,” sheobserves.
“That’s putting it mildly.” I drum my fingers against the steering wheel again. “It’s always been tense, but I thought it was just because he was this perfect heir apparent and I was the black sheep cousin who couldn’t get his shit together. Now I find out he’s actually my brother, which somehow makes the whole dynamic even more fucked up.”
“Have you talked to him about it? Since finding out?”
I laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. “Not really. We’ve been a bit preoccupied with Russian conspiracies and hidden sisters.”
“Fair enough,” she concedes. “But maybe you should, when this is all over. Clear the air.”
“Maybe,” I agree, though I have my doubts. Declan and I have never been good at honest conversations. I’m not sure finding out we share a father is going to change that fundamental incompatibility.
As we approach the outskirts of Dublin, the traffic thickens, and I focus on following their car through the increasingly congested streets. The Bank of Ireland on College Green is in the heart of the city, a grand building that speaks to old money and established power.
We find parking nearby and regroup on the steps of the bank, a collection of tired, rumpled travelers who probably look nothing like the institution’susual clientele.
“Remember,” Declan says, his voice low as we prepare to enter, “we don’t know what’s in that box. Be prepared for anything.”
I nod, feeling the weight of the key in my pocket. Kori stands close beside me, her presence a steady comfort in the face of whatever revelation awaits us. On impulse, I reach for her hand, linking our fingers together.
“Ready?” I ask, searching her face.
She squeezes my hand in response. “Ready.”
As we push through the bank’s heavy doors, I can’t shake the feeling that whatever we find inside is going to change everything—again. But this time, at least, I’m not facing it alone.
Chapter 24
Kori
